Our love is like a book
by ibuzoo
Summary: There's a book for each month of their relationship and when Tom starts to read Hermione understands.


**JANUARY**

It is still cold outside, snow falling in white flakes from the sky, covering the last piece of earth. We are sitting by the fire, books in our hands, discussing, fiery and your eyes glisten with something foreign, new, found something that you longed for since ages, a partner, an intellect - an equal. Your hands grip my hair and shoulders and the next thing i know is the feeling of your perfect lips on my chapped ones.

_You read _**_Les Misérables_**_ to me and i knew from the start that you were my Enjolras, my sun and I was Grantaire following you gladly in death. _

—

**FEBRUARY**

You're a mysterium and there's more to fathom then i first thought. You always try to hide your ancestry and speak a language to lull everyone around you, you're a predator and they're your prey but no one notice, they adore you, worship you, enshrine you. I think you're lonely but when i tell you, you throw your head back, dark locks shining in winter's sun and your laugh is the most beautiful sound i ever heard.

_We lie awake in tangled sheets, my eyes closed and all i can hear is your voice reading _**_The Great Gatsby_**_; all i can think about is how Jay never had the chance to attain happiness with Daisy and in the end died lonely. I bury my head in your crook of the neck and when my fist curls firm around the hem of your shirt you don't comment on it, no you don't._

—

**MARCH**

We danced around each other too long, felt the attraction between us rising until it reached it's climax. Your body fits mine and when we start to move, touch, smell, it's utter perfection, an utopia. I can feel your fingertips digging in my skin, leaving bruises but i couldn't care less. You're mine. I'm yours.

_I'm already half asleep when you start reading _**_Les Liaisons dangereuses_**_, your accent non-existent when you pronounce french words as if you've spoken the language by birth. You're my Vicomte de Valmont and i cut out the thought of Madame de Trouvel which ended up alone._

—

**APRIL**

The first fight comes with spring leaves and mild temperatures. We cannot stop fighting, throw back accusations and sarcastic snarks as fast to outsmart the other one - it's like we're two graveling poles always colliding with our minds and persuasion. Sometimes we don't talk to each other for hours, but we'll always come back, don't we?

_You enter my room in the middle of the night trough the window but i'm not really surprised, just tug you in and we lie in the shrouds as if we always belonged there. I don't even know how you got your hands on a book but when you start reading _**_Wuthering Heights_**_ i feel an awful lot like Catherine who desperately wanted to see the good in Heathcliff._

—

**MAY**

Sometimes it's strange how hard you try to pretend to be everybody's darling. You're a gentleman at your finest, exudes a darling smile and everybody seems to eat out of your palms. I know there's a dark temptation around you, a temper that's hard to controle and sometimes, rarely, i love to push you to your own limits.

_We're sitting in the bathtub, warm water washing around our bodies and my back and head rest on your chest. Your words are a deep rumble and i can feel ever breath you take while the story of Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy fills the walls of the room, resonating like an echo. _**_Pride and Prejudice_**_ was never on my favorite book list, though i have to admit that yes, you hide your face behind the mask of a Mr. Darcy pretty well._

—

**JUNE**

There's a movie on tv and we're tangled on the couch, your nose buried in my crook of the neck, your arms tight around my waist. I try to get up but you won't let me go, grumbles against my shoulder and holds me firm, solid. I can feel your breath on my skin but i try to push you away cause i really want to get some crisps to eat. There's a rumble in your chest and something that sounds an awful lot like three certain words; in the end i stay.

_That night you're reading _**_The Perfume_**_ to me. There couldn't be any other book which would fit better to understand your obsession, half a year was barely enough time to understand the extremety that you love me. When your voice fills my ears i know if i ever should die before you, you'd try and find a way to conserve my essence - just like Grenouille._

—

**JULY**

Your typing or discussing with the brutality of a bloodhound but the face of an aristrocrat and there are times when something shakes your point of view, your calculated arguments. Sometimes your cold facade breaks in little shards and the beast under it comes out, your rage, the devil inside of you. When you start to shred your papers i merely smile and give you the waste basket to clean up the mess once you finish.

_We lie in the backyard of my parents house, night has long fallen and garden candles are giving barely enough of their light for you to read. Your voice stays the same but it feels as if i can hear a difference as soon as you read _**_Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_**_. I run my fingers trough your dark locks, kiss your face and cheeks while you're reading and you don't stop but there's a grateful glance, just a small one. We both know that it's not easy to fight against yourself, don't we?_

—

**AUGUST**

There's something wrong with you when you return from your father's place and i know it the minute you step into the room. You grab me hard and kiss me until my lips start to bleed, butchers them raw while your fingers dig into the place behind my ears as if you want to bruise my skin, mark me. I feel the desperation between our lips so i loop my arms around your neck and try to erase the memory.

_We're sitting on the couch together, empty boxes of the ordered Chinese food at our feet and when you finally decide on a book i'm quite surprised it's _**_Vanity Fair_**_ you're reading. I knot our hands together and I can feel the smile coming up around the corners of my mouth; you're George Osborne fighting for Amelia. I understand, i do._

—

**SEPTEMBER**

We steal kisses and poems between classes, Oxford is like a home and the library our bedroom were we both walk on common grounds. We steal books from each other and make a habit out of a game to outsmart the other one. There's still rivalry between fiery discussions although there's so much more now.

_It's the last day of autumn's hot sun and sunbeams dance over our skins, we're liying in the grass on Oxford's ground under the giant cherry tree and you're reading Dante's _**_Divina Comedia _**_in your perfect italian tongue, speaks vowels with a southern flair. I feel like Beatrice, guiding you trough heaven while you wandered trough hell so long alone._

—

**OKTOBER**

Days are getting shorter and nights are getting longer and there's not enough time we share between classes and work and thesis. As soon as we're both home we're tangled in each other and for minutes no one can tell us apart. We started to need each other like oxygen, compulsive in love. I blend out the small voice in my head trying to warn me from the madness we're heading into.

_We're sitting by the windowsill, feet on feet and a blanket to hold us warm while the last days of autumn and first days of winter pay their tributes._**_ The Picture of DorianGray_**_ is a cruel piece of literature though it couldn't describe you better. I cannot forbear to see the little smirk creeping in your voice while reading and the smugness on your perfect juvenile face illuminated from the candles. _

—

**NOVEMBER**

My friends invite us to a party and they observe what we don't notice anymore; your hand is in mine, on my shoulder, the small of my back, my hand on your arm or we're standing side by side as close that not even a leave could fit in between. Your eyes search mine, mine search yours and i feel angsty when i can't find the cold grey orbs watching me. Your glance gives me a self confidence i never felt before and when they tell me i changed all i can do is laugh, freely. Freedom is all i ever wanted and i found it in your eyes, touch, voice.

_You avoided Shakespeare long enough and when you finally start to quote _**_Romeo and Juliet_**_ by heart, we both already know that it's just a matter of time until people will see the reflection of doomed lovers in our eyes._

—

**DECEMBER**

Living with you is like dancing a cruel dance with Death himself. There's always the narrow stage of getting to close to the edge but you keep saying 'Go on, one more step', splitting your face in a thousand different shades. I know that i should be afraid of falling.

_We're sitting in tangled sheets, naked bodies convuluted in each other and i can feel your lips against my shoulders, my neck. Machiavelli's _**_Prince_**_ is light in my hands and while i'm reading the words out loud i know that yes,__ being smart, dark and sneaky is an unbeatable combination._

I was never afraid of heights anyway.


End file.
